


Many Miles Away

by deedeeinfj, PhryneFicathon



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-17 03:30:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon
Summary: Jack meets up with Phryne at a cottage in Scotland.





	Many Miles Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CollingwoodGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollingwoodGirl/gifts).



_Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the Shore of a dark Scottish lake._

-Sir Walter Scott

 

* * *

 

Phryne stopped her car in the drive leading up to a small, stone cottage on the isle of Inchmurrin, the blue waters of Loch Lomond reflecting the sun behind it. The figure sitting on the front step of the cottage removed his hat and stood, and the strong breeze revealed the red lining of his overcoat. Phryne smiled. She filled her lungs. She opened the car door.

“‘There’s a shadow on the door of a cottage on the Shore of a dark Scottish lake,’” she said to the figure. He turned his hat in his hands, smiling, and she took a few steps closer. “I went to pick you up.”

“My ship was early, so I didn’t think you knew,” he said.

“I knew,” she said.

“I couldn’t wait,” they said together.

This time, it was he who stepped closer – close enough to reach out and brush his fingers against her earring. “I’ve missed you.”

She closed her eyes at his touch and opened them again with a cheeky grin. “Can’t keep the criminals at bay for a mere ten months without my help, Inspector?”

His mouth twitched. “They give me far less trouble than you do.”

She raised her hands to straighten his lapels, but decided at the last second to pull him toward her instead. “I’m glad you could come, Jack,” she admitted, looking up into his face, letting her eyes flicker down to his mouth as they had always been wont to do. “I had no idea the market crash would keep me here so long, and I was going mad. My parents, dealing with money, missing you.”

“And this place?” he asked, nodding back to the cottage.

“A brief escape. The Duke of Montrose uses it for hunting, but he’s friends with my father and promised me a spring escape before he sells it. It coincided nicely with your arrival, so I was happy to accept. Do you like it?”

“I wouldn’t mind sleeping in a box if it meant…” He cleared his throat. “If it meant spending a night on dry land.”

“We’ll save the boat for tomorrow, then.”

She led him inside and pointed him down a short hall as she hung up his hat and coat. “You put your bag away, and I’ll make drinks. You can see, just there, that we have a nice little parlor with a nice little fireplace with a nice little mantel perfect for leaning.”

The cottage had two bedrooms which faced each other on opposite sides of the hall. Phryne had left both doors open for Jack to make his choice: he could share the main room with her, or he could claim the empty guest room for himself. He had come halfway around the world to be with her, but she had decided to presume nothing. To force nothing. What they had was too precious to risk.

When he hadn’t joined her in the parlor for some time, she walked to the bedrooms in search of him. “Jack?” He was sitting on the bed in the guest room, his tie loosened, but his two bags were nowhere to be found. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

He gave a short laugh and shook his head. “Just overthinking.” She waited, and he continued, “I know what my own wishes are, but I didn’t want to be rude and presumptuous, and I couldn’t decide which message was worse, and…”

“Are your bags in the main bedroom where I’m staying?”

“They are,” he said, his expression uncertain, his eyes searching hers.

“Then we’ll find a place for everything,” she said, offering him her hand.

They crossed the hall, and she noted his bags on the floor beside the bed. She opened the door of the small closet, where her own clothes hung to one side, leaving a generous bit of space on the other. “I left room here in case you brought along any suits that needed hanging.” Closing the closet door, she motioned to the bureau. “You’ll find the top two drawers empty, as well as one of the drawers in the nightstand there. You see, I did hope…”

She trailed off as Jack’s hand curved around her waist in that way of his, drawing her body up to his.

“You hoped?” he asked. His voice had dipped into that low, honeyed register that gave her goosebumps.

“Mmhmm, many things. Some of them positively indecent.”

“Then I imagine they were very much in line with those wishes I mentioned.”

“I knew you had more in you than that telescope line,” she smiled just before his lips met hers.

It was the first time she had been able to kiss him without an audience and at her leisure, and she luxuriated in him. Somehow, he still smelled of home. Or perhaps she associated home with his pomade and his soap and his shaving cream. She loved his mouth, as determined and focused and serious as he was. As generous. As subtly wicked.

She tilted her head back slightly and searched for what blue was left in his darkened eyes. "Should we forget our drinks, then?" she asked, reaching up to loosen his tie.

"Yes, do you mind? I was hoping you could help me put my clothes away."

Bemused, she said, "Put... your clothes away? I suppose..."  _Well, that was a bucket of cold water_.

Jack laughed - such a rare, beautiful sound - and slid his now-undone tie from around his neck. "You really must get better at recognizing my romantic overtures."

She blinked. Then she smiled down at the discarded tie and back up at Jack. She toyed with the top button of his shirt. "How fastidious are you, Inspector, about hanging and folding these garments?"

"At the moment, Miss Fisher, not the smallest bit."

 

* * *

 

“I lazed in bed until well past ten, I drank champagne in the bath, and now I’m on a duke’s boat. In a robe. Please don’t tell your red raggers about this.”

Phryne laughed as she insinuated herself between Jack and the deck railing, hugging her arms around his waist. “I wouldn’t say you _lazed_ in bed this morning, darling.”

“Hmm,” he rumbled, his lips at her temple.

She pushed him backwards until his legs met a deck chair behind him. He sank into it and pulled her sideways into his lap, his hand cupping her slender neck as he tasted her lips. She held onto his hair, still wet from their rather chilly swim in the loch.

Jack slid his hand down over her breast and into the opening of her robe, then up her bare thigh. She rewarded him with a quiet moan of encouragement, opening her legs to his exploration. As he traced her folds slowly with his fingers, he stroked her mouth with his tongue, both teasing and arousing. Phryne gave a disapproving whimper when he suddenly robbed her of both mouth and hand, but she watched as he brought his hand up between them and drew his fingers into his mouth.

"Didn't get enough this morning?" she asked, shifting herself to straddle him. The scent of her own pleasure wafted up to her, arousing her even more. She licked her taste from his lips as she guided his hand back where she wanted it.

"Never enough," he mumbled between kisses.

Phryne rocked ever more desperately into his hand, against his long, capable fingers. She had been delighted to discover that Jack was a man who talked (and even laughed!) during lovemaking; too few men understood the eroticism of intelligence and humor in bed, and Jack's voice in itself was a potent aphrodisiac. Now, however, he was silent, deep in concentration as he watched her enjoy herself, his eyes flitting from her eyes and mouth to the place where his hand disappeared beneath her robe.

"Talk to me, Jack," she said, her voice a breathless murmur. Jack paused and searched her eyes. “Not overthinking again, I hope?” she asked gently.

“I might be.”

She kissed the tip of his nose, slid back a little, and untied the knot on his robe. “You won’t be thinking for much longer.”

“I’m trying to decide if I should tell you something,” he said, still serious.

Phryne stopped her teasing and met his eyes. His face said it all for him, but she knew she wanted to hear it. Yes, yes, she wanted to hear it.

“Perhaps if you whisper it?” she suggested.

Jack smiled a little – dry and crooked, her favorite – and pulled her closer, his eyes still uncertain. Then she felt his warm breath on the shell of her ear as he whispered the words.

 

* * *

 

_For love is heaven, and heaven is love._

-Sir Walter Scott

 


End file.
